


Stay

by TomatoBoxFairy



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Adventurous!reader, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hostage Situations, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Probably a messed up romance but, Rating May Change, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomatoBoxFairy/pseuds/TomatoBoxFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working as a glorified tax collector at the age of 25 had its downsides, especially when it came to driving miles and miles to some manor to see why a Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire suddenly stopped paying their property taxes. You investigate and find out that perhaps this home has some secrets meant to be kept buried. </p>
<p>2-year time skip following the events of the movie!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Heelshire Manor

**Author's Note:**

> I finally saw this movie last weekend and guys, I still don't know why I'm such a sucker for Brahms. But hey, why question it when you can write a fic, instead? So, please bear with me on this first chapter; I'm trying to lay out the ground work but I have ideas ready for the future chapters! (Also I'm an American trying to write a British tax collector reader, apologies in advance if I reallllly mess things up/things don't make sense/know like nothing when it comes to taxes)
> 
> Okay, enough excuses! I really hope you enjoy!

They didn't pay you enough for this.

Driving on sight to check out locations was one thing, but when the trip there took _hours_ , it was barely even worth it! And what lovely greeting were you going to get when you got there? Someone ready for an argument, most likely. You understood it, though. How they felt. Money did not grow on trees and paying taxes on top of merely trying to get by was stressful. So, add in someone coming to your house to figure out why that money was not being used toward taxes could only result in a heated discussion. Great.

You sighed, shaking your head to rid yourself of the negative thoughts. It was best not to think of the worst possible situations before you even got there. You worked for a branch under the guidance of Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs in a bustling little county in Britain, though your own department of involvement included you being on the road a lot to visit the homes in danger of foreclosure to check in and give warnings after a repeated pattern of ignoring the notices in the mail. It wasn't the prettiest of jobs out there and people tended to not like you since well, knocking on their doors to say that they better pay up or be in danger of losing their home wasn't the best introduction a girl could give.

The current home you were driving to was isolated, to say the least. You had looked over the file and this manor belonged to a Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire. It had been in the family for years apparently before they had just stopped..Paying everything. No electricity, council taxes, telephone services..Nothing. Perhaps they had decided to try the Amish life? Or maybe were on a really holiday? You honestly just hoped that nothing bad had happened. They _were_ an old couple according to the records..

Again, you shook your head. Now your brain was just setting this entire journey up like some horror movie. It would just be a regular old boring trip. You'd arrive, knock, state your business, and fix the problem. Well, try to. It was probably all a misunderstanding, you guessed.

So why did you still have such a nervous stomach?

It was around seven in the evening when you finally arrived and the steady hammering of your pulse did anything but calm down. For one, the large gate to the property was left opened as if someone had forgotten to close it in their haste. Or, you reasoned, that it was the Heelshire's simply expecting you. Sure. That calmed you down some. At this point, you would take any excuse after such a long drive.

Of course, you decided to press on. You had driven all this way for a reason and would be damned to drive all the way back already. Up and around you drove until you were coming to a stop in front of the estate's entrance, your lips parting at the sheer size of the property. It was huge! Gorgeous yet certainly ghastly in the most curious of ways. You even took several moments just staring from the driver's seat in awe, whistling lowly when you sat back. No wonder they weren't paying their taxes anymore, they were living in a freaking mansion that must have cost loads and loads of money!

Gathering the property's files and your purse, you slammed the car door with your hip and paused once, surprised at that rejuvenating twinge of excitement jittering through your veins. Okay, so who wouldn't be intrigued by a home like this? It looked as if it came straight out of a movie! You honestly couldn't wait to see inside and hoped that the owners would be home to see you in. You hesitated at that thought then to peer around for any automobiles and noted with disappointment that none were in sight. That was probably a bad sign for you. You purposefully ignored this piece of information and set to work on climbing up the steps, your chin tipped back to admire the structure.

What if this was a bad idea?

The signs were all there that no one was home. The greenery was long, looking as if it hadn't been cut in ages. There were mouse traps littered around that hadn't been cleaned out and reset. The structure itself looked weathered and ignored. There were no cars in sight. Truth be told, the home looked abandoned.

But what were you supposed to do? Turn back with your tail between your legs already without even checking if someone was home? No, you were an adult with responsibilities. You just had to knock, wait, maybe knock twice or thrice, and call out what your state of business was. If you got to see inside, you'd consider it a bonus.

Running your fingers through your hair, you took a deep breath and straightened yourself out. Time to see what this house was about. Leaning forward, your knuckles rapped against the hard wood and you waited a beat, wondering how anyone would really hear your knock through the entirety of the manor. Once more with feeling, you knocked.

“Um..Excuse me,” you called, voice wavering at your attempt to raise your voice. You cleared your throat and started again, stronger this time, just like you had always practiced and chanted at the doors of others. “Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs!” Still no response. You sighed grumpily, gaze drifting down toward the door handle. No..You really shouldn't. They wouldn't have left their door unlocked now, would they? But even if they did, it didn't matter! You couldn't just break in and make yourself at home in this...This mansion! So what if it was huge and a real beauty, it's not like the interior could match the exterior! Right? ..But what if it did? Hell, who were you trying to kid? You knew it did. You wanted to see, and damn that curious little bugger in the back of your head that made you even consider this! Just..Try the door. Perhaps it wasn't even unlocked in the first place.

Trying your best _not_ to satisfy that curious hunger, you stalled and paced in front of the door for a moment. And then, with a sharp breath, you abruptly wrapped your fingers around that handle and turned it, letting out a pleased huff when it clicked and opened. Okay. So it was unlocked. Fine. That's just dandy.

Just go back to the car.

You ventured on inside instead.

“Heeeello? Is anyone home?” A swallow. “I uh...Apologize for intruding! I'm here to speak about the property?” And check out this sick home, but you were really here for business and didn't dare voice that. Cautious steps pulled you in further, but regret finally began to seep in when your nose scrunched up at the stale smell that lingered and assaulted your nose in waves.

“Christ,” you groused, ducking your chin to your chest to bury your nose under the collar of your blouse. That was not a smell a house should have, especially a beautiful one such as this! It only served to clarify that yeah, this house probbaabbblly was abandoned.

Still, you were intrigued to the point of going in further and yeah, maybe you were crazy and sure, this is how people usually got killed in horror movies or kidnapped or-..”Stop it,” you snapped to yourself, shushing those babbling thoughts from within. You were just doing an honest to goodness look around. No one would grab you or kill you.

The house was messy, you came to discover after a few minutes. There were rooms with holes in the wall, ripped fabrics, broken glass, splintered wood. The stench was a whole different story. It was consistent and followed you, no matter the room you were in. The very state of the home itself forced many thoughts to run through your head. You couldn't help but wonder about what really happened here. Did they just up and leave? Why didn't anyone know of this? What if..

You stopped walking then, your little exploration beginning to frighten you. Something had to happen here to create an environment like this. A feral animal? Squatters?...What if there was a break in? What if Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire were attacked? What if that stench was-..?

A sudden creak in the wood had you nearly screaming.

With a violent jolt, the files in your hand were flung and the papers floated down, your hand cupping your mouth to silence yourself. Wow, alright, shit. You were getting yourself all worked up with those stupid thoughts!

With your heart still hammering in your chest, you tried to calm yourself down, shakily humming to yourself. The soothing melody you chose was one from your childhood and in a way, made you feel a little less alone in such a desolate location. It was all good. You just freaked out a little there, no biggie. But perhaps it was time for you to start leaving..Or hauling ass. Whichever came first, you decided.

But first and foremost, you had to grab those files. Getting down on your knees, you crawled along the admittedly dirty floor and reached ahead to start snatching the pieces of paper up. Placing each inside of the folder you had, your gaze began to list off to the side to take in your surroundings. You were near a dusty set of chairs and, squinting through the darkness, could tell that there was what seemed to be more beautiful pieces of furniture scattered throughout the room.

You had to admit, the Heelshire's really knew how to decorate. However, those idle thoughts you had going on through your head began to sizzle and pop into a dull silence when your hand swept across the carpeted flooring to grab a file. Oh.

All those scary thoughts you had before? Yeah, they started coming back in full swing.

A muffled cry suddenly bubbled up your throat when that initial shock left you to be replaced by gut clenching terror. You toppled back onto your bottom, eyes wide and frantic. That-..It couldn't be real..It had to be some Halloween decoration..

Bones. A skeleton. _Remains_.

“Oh _God_ ,” you choked, scrambling backward in a mixture of shock, fear, and disgust. You failed twice to get to your feet, your joints feeling like jelly against your commands to just _move_. Screw the papers, screw this little adventure, screw this home. You wanted to get out.

But you didn't get far.

A huff from behind you and an overwhelming pang of that stench was all you could register before something heavy came barreling down in contact with the back of your head. You had no time to react, to breathe, to scream.

Only regret, static, and then blackness.


	2. Enjoy Your Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up disoriented and confused only to realize that you're being held against your will. Can you find a way to free yourself or will your captor get to you first?

You were warm. Drained, sore, but warm. Your consciousness had licked at you briefly once or twice, but your eyelids continued to feel heavy and uncooperative. Though, it had been a long day, you reasoned. Why should you even fight it? After all, you drove a long way, smoothed over the problem with the Heelshires and went to sleep nice and early in your own bed to catch up on some sleep.

The tight grip on each wrist shattered your fantasy to pieces.

With a sharp intake of breath, bleary eyes were opened to take in the unfamiliar environment and remind you that no, you never even made it out of the home. The look that twisted your features could only be described as disorientation before it melted into a state of anguish once clarity decided to bless you.

“No no no,” you choked, growing frantic the more you began to snap out of your prior confusion. You rolled your head to the left, flinched at the sudden pain in your skull, and stared at the rope securing your wrist to the bedpost, your pulse thrumming rapidly to life. Your wrists were tied to a bed. You _couldn't leave._

Truthfully, the knot itself looked as if a child had done it, but it was the strength behind it that made you worry. You instinctively gave each wrist a few experimental tugs and when the ropes didn't give way, you found that familiar wave of regret and fear rushing back to you.

This was..Insane. By this point, you gave up at fighting back the tears that had been pricking at the corners of your eyes, the drops wetting your skin and dampening your hair during their journey down your cheeks. Okay, okay, calm down and breathe. There had to be a way out. Or..Well, something you could do. People managed to escape these situations in the movies, didn't they? You couldn't just lay here and accept this.

After taking a few more moments to calm down, you nodded to yourself and sniffed, hiccuping once, before turning your head to gaze off to the side. That sudden shock of pain from your head served to remind you of something pretty important. Whoever had you tied up like this had gone and hit you. Hard enough to knock you out. Whether it was with a weapon or fist, there was no mistaking the strength behind it. You had to be careful. For now though, you hoped that you were safe. You guessed that it was still in the dead of night or even early morning due to the only source of light coming from the flickering candle to your right. Your captor surely wouldn't come in anytime soon, right?

Probably for the best, you simply decided to ignore the possibility of being completely wrong for the moment being. Meanwhile, you managed to find that with some effort, you were able to shimmy yourself into a sitting position against the headboard. Good, at least you were able to feel a little less restricted!

“Oh shit-”

And here you thought that the dimly lit room on its own was doing enough of a job at creating an eerie environment. No, it seemed that there were still surprises to greet and frighten you. In this case, it was the doll posted near the foot of the bed.

You nearly had jumped out of your skin upon noticing it but sharp reflexes helped you manage to trap the doll between your feet before your sudden movements could force it off the bed and shatter it. Embarrassingly enough, you almost mistook it for a child waiting for you to wake in the dark, but the cracks in the porcelain and dead stare said otherwise. Well, wasn't this just comforting?

The doll slouching against your ankle reminded you to release it so you did, slowly pulling your legs closer to your body to sit cross legged.

“Sheesh,” you muttered, slightly put off by the stare the doll continued to have on you while laying on its side. “...Don't scare me like that and you won't fall off of the bed, okay?”

And now you stooped down to talking to a doll.

For the record, the pajama-clad little guy didn't respond to you, so at least you weren't _completely_ losing it.

This entire doll situation just added to the absurdity of everything and you even felt the urge to just laugh but couldn't, the restrictions on your wrists being the only thing that managed to steer you back to reality.

It was strange, you noticed. The knotted rope holding you back could have been a lot worse. Although it prevented you from completely jumping free from the bed and rubbed your skin raw, the length of the rope to the bedpost was just long enough to allow you some movement. In a way, it was almost as if those bindings weren't there to completely incapacitate you, but rather to just keep you there. Well, you could work with that, you decided.

To your left was a nightstand topped with a lamp and an alarm clock most likely from when the Heelshires still paid for the electricity, and something else that sparked some confusion. Your folder filled with the house property files. How did-..Why would the person who did _this_ to you take the time to regather the files for you after you fell unconscious? Well, this _was_ the same person who went out of his way to place some eerie porcelain doll at your feet. Hmm, you wondered if-...You paused that thought, gaze sweeping the room. No, apparently leaving you your purse was out of the question. You win some, you lose some.

With one more lingering look at your folder, you sighed, running out of ideas quickly. Maybe..You could use it to your advantage somehow? Look over the information, maybe find something enclosed about the family that you accidentally skimmed over. At this point, anything was an option.

Of course, your decision to grab the folder in the first place wasn't going to be the easiest thing. Sure, you had some mobility with the knots at your wrist, but you couldn't just reach over and snatch it up. Your legs, while free from any restriction, simply couldn't bend that way either. If only your new, albeit creepy, friend could help.

You shot the lounging doll a look but it didn't offer any guidance. Well, why the hell would it anyway?

At this point, you were ready to toss the whole folder idea out the window when you remembered something. The candle. It was close enough to your right that if you angled your body and wrist just so, you could potentially burn right through the rope and break free. However, that would raise several new obstacles. One, the fire could get out of control and injure you further. Or two, it could alert whoever was keeping you here that you were in fact awake and trying to pull some Macgyver maneuvers. You found both equally possible and terrifying.

What choice did you have though? You weren't strong enough to rip free from such a strong knot, nor were you agile enough to do some contortionist act out of it. If you wanted at least one wrist free before your captor arrived, you needed to try the candle.

“Wish me luck,” you murmured. And with a few deep breaths, a nod to the doll, you went for it.

Your gaze was pinned to the door as you moved closer to your right, tugging a few times against the rope. Here's to hoping that you don't burn the room down. Or attract the attention of your captor.

Catching the edge of the flame to the rope, you jerked your wrist away when the fire finally caught on. Now was the time to act fast. Gritting your teeth, you ignored the fire licking at your skin and began to yank against the confinement, hoping the blaze would begin to fray the rope.

Luckily for you, it did. But unluckily for you, it created a trail of smoke. Frantic now, you ripped your gaze from the door and shifted on the bed, tugging your wrist toward your body before finally _finally_ the rope snapped. The momentum threw you back against your side on the bed before you could prepare yourself for it, only having a moment to inhale sharply. You scrambled back onto your knees with haste, patting the rest of the dying flame away from the rope.

Your right hand was free. A smile began to spread across your lips at the sheer fact that a stupid idea that could have gone disastrous worked for you. “That actually..Worked,” you whispered, gazing at the red hot marks that marred your skin. Okay, so maybe it could have went a little better without the burns. “Still pretty good for a rookie, huh?” You were talking to the doll again, as if some piece of porcelain would cheer you on. It didn't.

Drawing your attention to your left wrist, you had only just began to pick at the rope when you heard it. Faint creaks in the wood turned to rushed footsteps. Pounding.

An alarmed gaze was thrown around the room, your eyes widening in fear. The smoke, did he smell-..? Your fingers clawed blindly at the rope faster, sloppier, and you were on the cusp of tears, wanting to sink into the wall to disappear. No no no, not yet, you couldn't-..The damn rope wouldn't-..You needed more time-..

And then, just like that, everything went silent. The door never opened. Your breathing faltered, tearful eyes wide and confused as they scanned the room. Did you imagine it? No..You couldn't have..you-..It was clear as day. Someone was coming. At least..A few seconds ago they were..

You weren't left clueless for long. To your sudden shock and horror, the armoire against the wall was abruptly shoved a few inches to allow a looming figure to charge into the room from what you guessed was some secret hole in the wall. At least, you hoped so. You really didn't want to find out that he was just hiding behind the piece of furniture the whole time. Of all things to suspect, that was not on your list of possibilities.

Nor was the presence of the man who did this to you.

He was tall and brawny in appearance, chin having to tilt down to even meet your gaze on the bed. However, his towering height wasn't what had your attention, no. It was the mask he wore. That cracked porcelain mask.

Raven curls spilled over the ivory piece of porcelain, an unkempt beard peeking out from the bottom whenever he tilted his head just so. The expression on the mask itself was apathetic but overall managed to create a boyish illusion similar to that of your porcelain friend at the foot of the bed.

Meanwhile, the man took the time to stare right back at you in silence and you were too paralyzed to even move an inch under that gaze. Did he smell the smoke? Did he know what you did? What you were trying to do? You watched with bated breath as his gaze wandered then to the candle, the rope, your wrist.

He knew.

Just like that, he came rushing toward you like something had snapped, an angry grunt muffled by the covering on his face. You were trying to leave _him_. You didn't want _him_. He huffed at these intrusive thoughts, knocking you back onto the bed.

Meanwhile, you were just sputtering words, excuses, anything really to ward him off. Your cries of protest were muffled against his shoulder when callused fingers pinned your freed wrist back to the mattress. “Never leaving me..”

You had to strain to even hear the words leave him, but they did the trick in sending a chill down your spine when you did hear them. His voice was soft, muffled by the mask, but somehow took on the tone of a child. A child who didn't want you to leave.

The digging of his fingers against the raw skin in your wrist had you wincing back to the situation at hand, your eyes widening when you saw him reaching for that rope. You squirmed, mind beginning to blank out on what to do.

“My head!” you managed to abruptly choke out and the man stilled, his lifted hand pausing in midair. He tilted his head to squint down at you and said nothing, but you rushed on as if your life depended on it. Though you were sure it actually did.

“I-I wasn't trying to leave..” A lie, but you hoped he wouldn't catch on. He, in turn, lowered his hand. You took it as a sign to continue rattling on with a trembling voice. “I needed to-..To free my hand. My head was injured after the fall..I needed my hand to check and see how bad it was.”

It was such a lame excuse that you wouldn't have been surprised if he took the moment to hit you back into unconsciousness.

He stared at you instead, eyes sweeping across your features to take in your tear stained face and search for any signs that you weren't telling the truth.

Honestly, you weren't completely lying. Your head did hurt from the hit and you would've liked to check on it..But there was still the fact that you were trying to escape. You swallowed nervously, your soft form trembling under his.

He didn't let you go, but he didn't move to tie you up either. Instead, he pressed his face closer and you jerked your head to the side, a pained hiss pushing past your teeth from the injury on your head. He faltered shortly, eyes moving behind that mask to travel along the expanse of your neck, your jawline, your lips.

“Please,” you forced out, nearly positive that he could feel your heartbeat hammering against your chest. “A b-bandage, I need-”

The porcelain brushed against your cheek and you inhaled sharply, wanting nothing more than to push him off. To roll out from under him. To not be in this situation to begin with.

As if hearing your silent pleas, he finally acquiesced and pulled away, enticing a held breath to finally leave your lungs. He had you so close. You were so warm, so soft, so real. His lips twisted briefly under the mask and he stood, staring down at your prone form.

He began to walk again, forcing your gaze to follow his movements until he came to a stop at your right. With a look in your direction, he lifted his hand and slipped his thumb and pointer finger under his mask. You looked on, confused.

He simply cocked his head in response, bringing moistened fingers down to extinguish the candle's flame.

“Don't worry,” he whispered in the dark, sounding like a pleased child. “I'll be back before you know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, we got to meet the real Brahms and the doll! I want this story to revolve more around the real Brahms, but I didn't want his work in restoring the doll at the end of the movie to go to waste! Hopefully you all enjoyed and thank you so much for the support!


End file.
